Food And Drink

Table Talk: The Greenhouse, W1

Now she’s had a ton of rubble dumped on her and the panjandrums and
plenipotentiaries have departed; now they’ve swept up the paper hankies and
champagne corks, let’s talk about Margaret Thatcher.

I know you’re probably up to here; you feel you’ve been more over-Thatched
than a Dorset tourism brochure. But in all the genuflecting verbiage and the
terpsichorean tomb tangoing, I don’t think anyone mentioned what Thatcher
did for dinner. First, I should say, I couldn’t stand her — and, unlike most
of the people who’ve been chanting, dancing and flicking V-signs over her
memory, I actually did vote against her. It wasn’t just the divisiveness —
the country has always been divided by class, by accent, by Catholic v
Protestant, north v south, Scotland v England, town v country, Saxon v
Norman, Norfolk v the living — it’s that she managed to divide it between
two equally